


No Cook Ups

by TheDeathEcchi



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cooking, Cooking Competition, F/M, Humor, NSFW, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 21:16:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13555740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDeathEcchi/pseuds/TheDeathEcchi
Summary: A house's foundation tends to be built upon every member of the family doing their fair share. Watchpoint Gibraltar might now have been a house in the traditional sense, and neither were its inhabitants, but they were family. Not by the water of the womb (except for four), but by the blood of covenant.And when it came to chores, that was where their bonds as family were truly tested.Particularly when Junkrat was on kitchen duty.





	No Cook Ups

A house's foundation tends to be built upon every member of the family doing their fair share. Watchpoint Gibraltar might now have been a house in the traditional sense, and neither were its inhabitants, but they were family. Not by the water of the womb (except for four), but by the blood of covenant.

And when it came to chores, that was where their bonds as family were truly tested.

Particularly when Junkrat was on kitchen duty.

-/-/-/-/-

An almighty boom that rattled the ceilings and shook the very foundation of the watchpoint sounded off from the kitchen, accompanied by manic laughter. The instigator of such culinary doom was none other than their resident demoman and agent of chaos, Jamison Fawkes, AKA, Junkrat. 

He regarded the now smoking oven the way a mother might her newborn, albeit with a decidedly toothier smile. "Mwah!" he exclaimed, doing a little pirouette. "If that ain't a foine how-do-ya-do!"

He yelped as a stream of foam and compressed nitrogen burst past him, courtesy of his partner in crime (in more ways than one), the massive Mako Rutledge, AKA, Roadhog. "It's burnt."

"Fuck off, ya bacon bit! It's got _crunch_." Junkrat attempted to explain, looking at Roadhog with a scowl. "Ev'rything's gotta have a bit'a crunch. A...'crunch component', if ya will."

Roadhog sighed, raised the fire extinguisher, thought better of it, and merely returned to his chair on the far side of the kitchen, ready to spring into action should another disaster occur.

Junkrat pulled out what, at one point, might have been an emu pie, but now more accurately resembled one of his concussion mines. Grabbing a jar of vegemite, he spooned a dollop onto it, sneaking a bit for himself. "Aaaaah...jus' like home..."

" _Jamison Fawkes!_ "

The junker flinched at the sound of a very familiar voice...one that was very very angry. 

Mei stomped into the kitchen, past the disinterested Roadhog, right up to the sheepish-looking Junkrat. 

"Afternoon ta you, too, darl!" he greeted. "But sorry, no sneaking a taste 'afore anyone else. 'Course, unless ya mean me..."

Mei huffed and looked around the kitchen. Or rather, what _was_ the kitchen. Scorch marks and small craters littered it, and the scent of gunpowder and burnt food was nearly choking. Unfortunately, whenever Junkrat was on kitchen duty, such things were to be expected. And dreaded.

"I certainly do not! At least, not right now...but that's besides the point!" Mei rubbed her temples and sighed. "Why is it every time you're in charge of the kitchen you turn it into a war zone?"

"Oi, I have a process, love! And 'sides, the results are always killer."

"That's because we have to come in and salvage whatever we can from your 'process'." she replied with exaggerated air quotes. "What we're you even making this time?"

Grinning ear to ear, he gestured to the burnt pie with a flourish. "Feast yer eyes before yer stomach, Snowflake! One emu pie from yours truly!"

Mei blanched. In her most struggling moments during her stay in Antarctica, when they had to survive on frozen biscuits until the next supply drop, she'd gladly return to those frozen chunks of dough before even attempting to bite into whatever sin against the food world Junkrat committed. "...That can't be a pie."

"Sure it is! And a good one, if ah say myself." Grabbing a triangle and rod, he began rattling it, the clanging of the instrument echoing loudly. "Oi, everyone! Soup's on!"

"It most certainly is _not_!" shouted Mei. She grabbed the triangle and hurled it across the kitchen, Roadhog plucking it out of the air with barely any visible movement. "Junkrat, look what's occurred here! The kitchen is a mess, and whatever it was you were attempting to serve isn't even passable by the barest of standards!"

Junkrat's face contorted into an offended scowl. "Don't be insultin' mah cookin', sheila! Wot ah sling's a lot better than them tiny portions'a nothin' you do!"

There was no endothermic blaster or Snowball in sight. And yet, the heat seemed to be sucked entirely out of the room as Mei put a hand on her hip, clucked her tongue, and looked up at Junkrat. " _What_ did you just say?"

Roadhog stood, crossed himself (and did another for Junkrat), and left the room, never looking back.

"You insult _my_ cooking?" she spoke in a positively icy whisper. "When you're the one who pours vegemite on everything?" She stepped to Junkrat, who backed up with fearful eyes. "Who decimates the kitchen to the point the janitorial staff has nightmares?" Step. Retreat. "Who once tried to serve us _grubs_ for dinner?"

"G-Good source of protein?" he laughed.

"At least when I cook, no one goes to the hospital." It was more terrifying that she wasn't yelling than if she was; her subdued anger was like being in the water with a shark. The danger was there, palpable, but still in hiding.

Step.

Retreat.

The junker swore mentally as he realized Mei had, literally, backed him into a corner. 

"I can cook circles around you, Jamison Fawkes."

Fear was replaced with pride. And with that pride, foolishness. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" he shot back, rising to his full height. Mei, however, was undaunted. "Is that a challenge, Snowball? You's challenging me to a cook-off?"

She folded her arms and smirked. "And if I am?"

His trademark manic cackle burst forth, the junker extending a mitten-covered hand. "Then you got yourself a competition, darl! Now you'll really see what true junker cooking is capable of! Name yer stakes?"

"Nothing too major." Mei replied. "You just have to admit I was right."

"Oh, s'at all?"

"On tape. In front of everyone. Wearing a _biiiiiiiig_ sandwich board saying 'I was wrong and Mei was right. So that way I can watch it for-ev-er."

She was hitting him right where it hurt; his dignity. The junker twiddled his thumbs for a moment before deciding. Jamison Fawkes never turns down from a challenge. 

"Awright. What do I get if ah win?"

"Oh, you won't."

Despite the situation and the blow to his ego, her confidence was arousing. "Say ah do, though?"

"...Name it."

Amber eyes twinkled in glee. "Okay! Ah win, you gotta do that thing fer me, in that thing ah like."

All bravado the climatologist held vanished in less than half a second, replaced with a blush that could've been seen from the moon. "Y-You can't be serious!"

"As a heart attack, sheila!"

"Something else. _Anything_ else!"

"Now, what were your words, darl? 'Name it'? You could always just back out."

That was enough to reignite her fire. "Never! She grabbed the mitt and shook it, never once breaking eye contact with the junker. "You have a bet!"

-/-/-/-/-

When Mei and Junkrat returned from the kitchen, no one expected the two of them to sit down and propose a competition, instead of dinner.

The rules were simple. The two would be given a week to procure ingredients (no bugs), return, and prepare as elaborate a spread as they could. At which point a self-elected jury would judge whose cooking was the best. 

Ordinarily, Winston would've objected to such folly, until he realized two things; Junkrat would be absent from the kitchens (likely the watchpoint in entirety), and if Mei won, which was likely, he would be able to lord it over him forever. Or at least a year. 

It helped that the world has seemingly been without significant crisis for a while, as if some cosmic force was quelling the chaos of the planet to allow such nonsensical shenanigans to occur. But of course, that couldn't be true.

"So, who's judgin'?" asked Junkrat, shooting a scornful glare at Bastion. "Likely not him, damn thing can't eat anyway."

"Jamie, be nice!" Mei chided. "He...does have a point, though. Sorry, Bastion."

The robot let out a sprightly, unoffended series of beeps.

"Why not Hanzo?" suggested Genji, clapping his brother on the back. "He knows about all sorts of food."

The archer scoffed and shrugged Genji's arm off him. "I have better things to do with my time than engage in such a childish game."

"But it could be fun!"

" _You_ do it then, if it seems so 'fun'."

"...I can't eat."

Hanzo's face dropped. "O-Oh. Right."

"Because of you."

The elder Shimada sighed. "I...suppose."

"Excellent! Any other takers?"

"Roadie!" shouted Junkrat. "Why ain't ya raised your hand yet, ya pig-faced cock?"

"Well, that won't do." put in Angela. "You and Roadhog are friends. It would be biased."

"'Friend' is a strong word." Roadhog grumbled.

"I wouldn't mind volunteering." spoke Ana. "I know quite a bit about cooking from all over."

"Awright, so gramma's on board!" A curt look from the sniper cowed him.

"Anyone else?" Mei asked. "Only one more person would be fine."

"I'll do it!" jumped up Lúcio. "I'd totally love to get in on this."

Next to him, Hana rolled her eyes and playfully jabbed him in the side. "You literally jump at the chance to help someone out, don't you?"

He grinned cheekily in response and formed his hands into hearts. "Aw, you know I'm all about that support life."

Hana laughed and returned to gesture. "Gross! Be a dweeb on your own time."

" _Anyways..._ " Junkrat put in before the two could deter the conversation any further. "Looks loike we got our judges. What next?"

"We should set up some ground rules. " she faced Junkrat with a challenging smirk. "Like keeping the kitchen intact."

"Ooh, burn." laughed Tracer.

"That's what we're trying to avoid."

"Oh, baby, a double!" cackled Hana.

The rules were set; the kitchen had to be intact, and they could only use ingredients found in their homelands. Tracer would be taking Junkrat and Roadhog to their native Australia, and Mei to China, with Hana as backup, courtesy of her private jet.

"When tha hell didjya get a private jet!?" exclaimed Junkrat.

"I'm a professional gamer and a world-famous celeb." snorted Hana with an air of pride. "I have _all_ the things."

-/-/-/-/-

"Hmmmmm..." Junkrat muttered to himself for what must've been the tenth time in five minutes. His eyes darted between two identical sledgehammers. Back and forth, back and forth. "Oi, Mei. Which one d'ya think ah should take."

"Personally, I don't think you should take either." she replied as she checked her coolant containers. She wasn't sure what or who she'd run into in China, but she wanted to take no chances, even with Hana as an escort. No, _especially_. Likely the teen's fame would get them mobbed everywhere they went. Better to be safe than extremely sorry. "What could you possibly need a sledgehammer for?"

"Kangaroos."

Mei actually stopped packing. She turned around, her gave one of pure incredulity as she stared at the junker. "Kangaroos."

"Hey, they ain't nothin' ta scoff at, darl. Oh, over here y'all think they're funny lil' buggers what wear jackets and eat twizzlers, but they're demons! Hopping demons!"

The brunette giggled and patted Junkrat's leg. "I thought you liked hopping demons."

"D-Different scenario, Snowflake! Them kangas're special breed of evil!"

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were scared of them."

He rounded on Mei with a pout. "Ah ain't scared! Of anything. 'Cept...y'know...losin' you or Roadie."

Mei cooed and wrapped her arms around the junker. "Aw, I knew beneath this burnt exterior beat a sweet heart."

"Yeah, yeah..." groused the Australian, but patted Mei on the head all the same with a warm smile. "Y'know, it just ticked...we ain't gonna see each other fer a week."

Mei actually hadn't thought about that when she made the bet. She let a small, dejected whimper at the thought of not seeing him for seven whole days, all over a silly bet. No waking up to his gunpowder smell, no early morning romps in bed, no falling asleep to his one-armed embrace...

She never really knew how much she'd miss those things until she realized the impending absence of them.

Unbeknownst to her, the same thoughts floated through Junkrat's head. No plump Snowflake to grope in the dead of night, no sweet vanilla scent, no soft, pillowy chest to sleep in...

A long silence passed between the two, Mei's head nestled in Junkrat's lap as he stroked her hair. They merely enjoyed the comfort and warmth of each other, silent, but aware.

"Ya wanna fuck 'afore we go?" asked Junkrat.

"Jamison Fawkes!" Mei shouted, face red as she swatted the junker with playful blows.

"Ain't a 'no', sweetheart!"

Mei puffed out her cheeks and tackled the Australian to the floor, straddling his hips. "How about this? Does this answer your question?"

"Nah." He chuckled mischievously and pulled down Mei's leggings with his metal hand, using his flesh one to pull her panties to the side and ghost his fingers over her drooling slit. "This does."

She purred softly and leaned down to whisper in his ear. "A week apart..." She slipped her hand into Junkrat's shorts and gripped the blonde's prominent erection. "We'd better make it count."

-/-/-/-/-

Morning came, and with it, the advent of Mei and Junkrat's departure. Much was on the line. Pride, bragging rights, shame, and, most important of all, the possibility of Junkrat never being allowed on kitchen duty again. The entirety of Overwatch was in attendance to bid goodbyes.

"Take care of yourself, Mei." said Angela as she gave the climatologist a firm hug. "We'll miss you."

" _Xièxiè*_. I'll miss you, too, Angela. Should I bring you back anything for a souvenir?"

"Oh, no, no, no, don't trouble yourself. I don't need anything. Certainly not those special rice frackers from that quaint little shop near the tower."

Mei smiled and rolled her eyes. "I'll be sure to get you some."

"Just be sure to turn back safely. Overwatch isn't Overwatch without you."

"Ugh, what is it with old ladies being so sentimental?" butt in Hana, regarding the two with a grin. "It's a week; we've been apart for _months_ on some missions."

A tic broke in Angela's eye. " _Entschuldigen sie mich**_...did you say 'old'?"

Hana's eyes widened in fear. "Uh...no, of c-course not! I didn't say 'old', I said 'young'! Young and hot. Reeeal hot. Yep, that's what I said."

"That's what I thought you said." 

Stifling giggles, Mei faced where Junkrat was, by the Orca, Roadhog by his side and making sure he didn't hurt himself, Lúcio chatting up the younger junker.

"You sure you've got this?" asked Lúcio, raising a cautious eyebrow at the sheer amount of weaponry the two were loading into the ship.

"Don't worry yer dreaded lil' head, musicman!" Junkrat replied. "We's was born and bred in Oz; we know tha place loike tha back of our hands!" As if to emphasize his point, he held up his hands and wiggled his fingers. "All both of 'em."

"Oh? What about that wart?"

"WHAT!?" Junkrat immediately looked over his human hand, but upon finding nothing, and seeing Lúcio's barely-suppressed grin, he scowled. "O, haw, haw, very funny."

"It was, actually." rasped Roadhog, earning a short bow from Lúcio and a rude gesture from Junkrat. 

"But in all seriousness..." spoke Lúcio. "Aren't you gonna miss Mei?"

"Well, obviously." Junkrat grunted as he loaded the last of the supplies. "Ah mean, yeah, it's gonna suck not wakin' up to those soft tits fer a week, but ah'll manage."

Lúcio rolled his eyes. "Cut the deviant act, man. You can fool most of the guys, but not me. I now what you're all about."

The blonde raised a quizzical brow. "Wot am ah all about?"

"You say all those sleazy and dirty things to hide the real truth. You love Mei and you know it."

"Well, a'course I do!" he laughed, eyes shifting about nervously. "Who wouldn't love her? Soft curves, killer chest, ass ya could bounce a quarter off of--"

"Nuh-uh. I mean you _love_ her." He placed a hand over Junkrat's chest and lightly patted it. "In here, man."

Junkrat glanced down before looking back up at the DJ. "That's me udder yer touching."

Sometimes, like right now, Lúcio had to applaud Mei. She clearly saw something in Junkrat the others couldn't. No matter how hard they tried.

"Plane's here!" shouted Hana. "Hey, Junk Boy! Wanna say bye bye to your birdie, you better do it now!"

But Junkrat had sprinted across the roof the second Hana mentioned the plane was arriving, nearly tackling Mei in a hug. She expected some long, exaggerated wail or even a sly grope in front of the crowd, but she was surprised by what he did instead.

"I'm gonna miss ya, Mei." No nickname or colloquial Australian denomination. 

Mei held back a sniffle and returned the hug. "I'll miss you, too, Jamie." She held on as long as she could, taking in that burnt, gunpowder-laced scent she'd come to treasure after so long. Likewise Junkrat was trying to burn Mei's memory into his head. Her sweet vanilla sent, the silkiness of her hair, the softness of her skin. He wanted to soak up every last bit of her...

"C'mon!" shouted Hana, cutting through their moment like a knife. "You guys can be gross all you want in a week! Let's go!"

Sighing, Mei gave Junkrat a quick kiss on the cheek, making her way to the plane.

"Time to go, too!" shouted Lena. "Chop, chop!"

Junkrat had done plenty of hard things in his life. Betray the junker queen, escape his beloved Australia, committed hundreds of robberies the world over.

Right now, compared to watching Mei go, those all seemed infinitely easier.

-/-/-/-/-

Hana never got the chance to really explore the more down-to-earth parts of China. Whether it was being in town for gaming competitions or conventions, or filming during her stint as a movie star, she'd always been swarmed by fans or exposed to the glitz and glamour, and not the real places and people.

As the fortieth person slammed into her and shouted something at her in Mandarin she guessed wasn't pleasant, she was able to see why.

“I’m walking here, _nom_!” she screamed, resisting the urge to draw her light gun. She hated this. Normally she’d be given a wide berth due to her superstar status, but as they were now technically outlaws and such attention would be problematic, she had to go for a disguise, and forgo her usual celebrity swagger. Something she wasn’t used to at all.

Mei, however, was in her element. This was her home, her birthplace, and from the moment they had touched down and checked into their hotel, she’d been off to the market district like a bat out of hell, Hana barely keeping on her heels.

When she thought she’d lost the climatologist, she was able to quickly find her, courtesy of Snowball weaving through the crowd and nearly slamming into her and beeping frantically.

“What’s wrong, little buddy?” she asked. “Where’s Mei?”

“ _ **Shuōhuǎng de biǎo zi!*****_ ”

Hana had had her fair share of experiences with irate Chinese opponents, so she was privy to a fair amount of swearing. She knew that one. But she never in her life expected those words to come from Mei.

She was on the opposite end of a stall, glaring down a tall, elderly woman who was regarding her with an arrogant sneer. But she looked more crone than hum, with her spindly body, stringy hair, and crooked, wart-pocked nose. Mei held in her hand a large bag of beef, nearly shaking it in the woman’s face. 

“I know the price of wholesale beef!” Mei snapped. “54 yuan a pound!”

“And you’ve got ten pounds right there, missy. So why not pay me and stop making a scene, hm?”

“You’re trying to overcharge me! In what world does 54 times ten equal 700!?”

“In _my_ world. My shop. Pay or leave.”

Mei shouted something that made Hana’s jaw drop and Snowball’s screen turn pink. “I am paying 540 and no more! Be grateful I’m not reporting you, you swindling old crone!”

The woman bristled and got into Mei’s face. “And just who do you think you’re calling a crone, you fat—”

Whatever the end of that sentence was, she never got the chance to finish it. A blast of green light flew just to the side of her ear, singing what little hair she had left. She leapt back in shock, falling into some bags of rice as her eyes widened in fear.

Hana holstered her light gun but kept the dark glower on her face as she approached the stand.

“I’m not exactly known for being merciless.” she spoke in a deathly hiss. “But right now, we’re on a time crunch. It’s been a long day, I’m _baking_ in this weather and shitty coat, so you’re gonna apologize to my friend, and accept her rightful payment.” She paused for effect. “Or I will erase you.”

The woman, nodding furiously, took Mei’s 540 yuan, paused, and handed back a hundred. “D-D-D-Discount.”

“How generous of you.” replied Hana with a sickly sweet smile. “And?”

The shopkeep faced Mei, barely able to keep eye contact. “I’m sorry for calling you fat. M-Ma’am.”

“Apology accepted.” The matter settled, the two strode off, but not before Mei tossed back one last dig. “Fat’s where it’s at.”

“Buuuuuuuuuuuurn!” whooped Hana, giving Mei a high-five.

Mei smiled as she walked through the sparse crowd to the next shop. Hana’s defense of her reminded her of someone. A certain explosive someone who would always jump to her aid when she was insulted. A sigh escaped her lips as she looked skyward.

‘ _I wonder how Jamie’s doing…_ ’

-/-/-/-/-

Evening was beginning to settle across the barren wasteland of Australia. The junker community of Junkertown was alive with anger and activity. Dozens of bars and a brawl occurred in each one. Junkrat, in his scarecrow disguise, sat at the counter, gazing longingly at a picture of Mei. She had her arms crossed and her cheeks puffed out, but there was no mistaking the whimsy in her delicate brown eyes.

“Aw, darl.” he sighed, tilting his head slightly to avoid a stray bottle that shattered into the shelf of liquor. “Ya got no idea how much ah miss ya.”

A patron was thrown into the counter and rose, grabbing a knife from his pocket, and was about to reenter the fray, but paused to glance at Junkrat’s picture. “’Ey, whatchu gotta picture wif a fat b—” There was a loud _pop_ as Junkrat’s fist connected and shattered the man’s jaw. He didn’t take his eyes off the picture the entire time, sighing wistfully as he wiped the stranger’s blood on his shorts. 

The insanity of the bar died down as tromping footsteps echoed. Roadhog, in his mako disguise, tromped up to Junkrat, slamming down a dead, bloodied kangaroo onto the counter. “Found one.”

“Fuck’s sake, Roadie!” screeched Junkrat. “Warn me next time! Aw, fuckit—see? Roo blood all over me shorts…”

“…‘Roadie’?” spoke a particular-looking bargoer. “Loike…Roadhog?”

“’E looks big ‘nuff…” said another. He pointed at Junkrat. “That oughta make him…Junkrat!”

“There’s a hugeass bounty on those wankers!”

“Dead or alive!?”

“Either!”

Junkrat sighed and hoisted the dead kangaroo around his neck and pulled out his frag launcher. “See whatcha gone and done? Now ah gotta blow up all these nice people.”

Roadhog pulled out his scrap gun and jammed in a fresh supply of metal. “You were gonna do that anyway.”

“Yeah, ah know. But I wanted a drink first.”

-/-/-/-/-

The pair burst out of Junkertown, Roadhog on his trademark Hog, Junkrat cackling maniacally in the sidecar as he fired a volley of grenades over his shoulder. “Whoo! Sure is great ta be back home for a spell, ain’t it, buddy?”

“Hm.”

“Crikey, quit yer jabbering, mate!” joked the blonde. “Always talk, talk, talkin’ witcha; can barely get a word in edgewise!” He patted the dead kangaroo. “Let’s get back to tha trailer and deposit this lil’ baby. Ah wanna find an emu nest ‘afore they run off.”

Roadhog grumbled and accelerated the bike. “I hate emus.”

-/-/-/-/-

Mei collapsed onto her bed with a weary sigh, Hana doing the same on her bed.

“I never thought I’d hate shopping…” groaned Hana, kicking off her shoes and not even caring one likely broke a vase. It wasn’t like she couldn’t pay for the damages. “We must’ve walked like thirty miles today…maybe more.”

Not hearing response, Hana perked up her head. “Heeeeey…I’m complaining over here…”

But Mei was distracted. In her hands, she held a snowflake-shaped locket, opened to reveal a picture of Junkrat. He was staring straight ahead at the camera with a lopsided, suggestive grin. Mei had taken the picture; he’d just made a lewd comment and waggled his eyebrows at her, and she’d almost had to retake it with how much she was laughing. Even then, a bit of her thumb was visible in the edge. It was imperfect. But perfect in its imperfection. 

Just like him.

“A locket? Talk about old-school.”

Mei squeaked in surprise as Hana burst into giggles. “Hana Song! It’s rude to sneak up on people!”

“God, you sound just like Lúcio when I catch him in the shower. Maybe you two can have a nice discussion about boundaries.” 

“So I miss him…is that a crime?”

Hana shook her head and stretched. “Nah. Whenever Lúcio and I are far apart, we stream each other masturbating before bed.”

“You _**what!?**_ ” shrieked red-faced Mei. 

“I’m kidding, dude!” Hana burst into laughter as she made her way to the shower. “Or…am I?”

-/-/-/-/-

The week passed without relative incident. More than a few times, Mei was worried for Junkrat’s safety, but they were put to rest during the occasional news report of their destructive exploits.

And finally, through loneliness, mild heartache, and the occasional merchant who tried to swindle them and needed some (occasionally violent) correction, they were heading home.

The second the Orca and Hana’s private jet touched down, Mei and Junkrat rushed out to meet each other. Many would’ve described it as ‘sweet’ or ‘touching’. Hana would’ve (and did) describe it as gross.

But the time for reunions was over; now was the time to cook.

“Nervous?” Junkrat needled, unable to tear himself away from Mei as he hauled in his ingredients.

“Only of hurting your feelings when I win.” shot back Mei.

The competition would involve three courses; breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Out of the goodness of her heart (and unwillingness to let someone perish courtesy of Junkrat’s cooking), Angela would be on medical standby. Hanzo, Ana, and Lúcio would be the judges, evaluating the dishes.

And victory would be most sweet…

-/-/-/-/-

Mei looked at the enormous slabs of kangaroo meat Junkrat had brought in. “How many did you kill to get this much meat?” she asked.

“Less than how many emus Roadie killed.” He cackled loudly as he doused something in a bowl with paprika. “He…haha… _really_ hates emus.”

Mei wasn’t sure whether or not she wanted to know the context behind that.

-/-/-/-/-

“Breakfast!” shouted Junkrat as he kicked open the doors.

“How exciting.” drawled Hanzo. “I would simply _adore_ food poisoning right about n—” His snark was silenced as a plate was tossed down in front of him. His eyes widened at the sight of crispy bacon strips atop a pair of over easy eggs, nested with a smattering of grilled tomato and mushrooms, and two slices of perfectly done toast, garnished with a lemon wedge.

“…What is this?” croaked the archer.

“It’s brekkie!” Junkrat replied, pushing back up the completely unnecessary toque he’d procured, and completely oblivious to the shocked looks he was given. 

“I’m aware of that. It just looks…”

“Delicious?”

“Normal, I would rather say.” Fork and knife in hand, Hanzo took a careful, tentative bite of bacon. He expected it to be glazed in gasoline or gunpowder, but no foreign agent presented itself. It was, and he _hated_ to admit it…

“Delicious.”

Behind him, Zenyatta handed Genji a hundred-dollar bill.

The vote was unanimous after Ana and Lúcio tasted Junkrat’s breakfast. A perfect ten across the board.

Mei brought in something a bit simpler, soybean milk and deep-fried dough sticks. Lúcio nearly ate them all, and the lack of animosity between she and Hanzo let to a favorable review that was much less begrudging. Ana enjoyed them so much she asked Mei for seconds, the climatologist promising she’d add them to the grocery list. Another perfect ten.

“Looks loike we’re tied.” laughed Junkrat as he prepared the kangaroo meat.

“Jamie, _where_ did you learn to cook like that?” asked a stunned Mei.

“Whaddya mean? Ah always cook loike that.”

Mei was at an absolute loss for words. She had no idea if he was poking fun at her or not. But it was irrelevant, it was time for lunch.

Junkrat had prepared a heaping pile of kangaroo brisket nearly drowned in barbecue sauce with a side of fries, potatoes and grits, and an entirely separate plate for a whole fried ostrich egg. Mei brought out covered rice, simple plate of rice topped with a medley of meat and vegetables. But once Junkrat saw it he panicked. Mei had prepared him that very dish dozens of times. No one could resist. 

Sure enough, the verdict was in Mei’s favor. However…

“6.5!?” snapped Junkrat. “Ah know I’d lose, but 6.5!?”

“You used a looooooooooot of paprika, man.” Lúcio said, still trying to get the taste out of his mouth. “Sorry.”

Back in the kitchen, Mei was regarding him with a smug look. “Looks like it’s in my favor, Jamie. You can quit now if you want. No one will blame you.”

“Not a chance!” Junkrat jabbed a thumb against his chest. “A junker never quits, whether it’s drinkin’, stealin’, or cookin’!”

“Oh…” Mei sashayed up to Junkrat, a coy look on her face. “I know all about you not quitting at things.” 

Junkrat gulped; all of a sudden, the room felt much hotter, and he didn’t think the stoves and ovens had anything to do with it. She pressed up against him, reached up her hands, giving Junkrat a generous view of her cleavage…

…and adjusted his toque.

“It was falling off.” smirked, giving him a kiss on the nose.

While you would think it would be difficult to cook with an erection, Junkrat managed, and the two wheeled out their dishes at the same time. Fueled by desire and envy, the junker pulled out all the stops; an entire emu diced into steaks, on a bed of vegetables, topped with fried eggs and a container of vegemite thankfully on the side.

But Mei wasn’t backing down, either. Spareribs, phoenix claws, and a plate swarming with pan-fried dumplings, and a bowl mountainous with rice.

Their bellies full to near bursting after their meal, and making one of the hardest decisions, they awarded it to Junkrat.

“For his creativity, mostly.” Ana said. “I’ve never seen someone prepare emu like that.”

“And he _did_ put the vegemite on the side.” put in Lúcio.

All things considered, Junkrat earned the victory. He even accepted it gracefully, if you call slyly pinching Mei's butt a victory. 

“I suppose that means a tie-breaker.” said Ana. “Are either of you able to make dessert?” 

Junkrat and Mei shared a quick glance and dashed off to the kitchens. 

-/-/-/-/- 

“I must say,” Mei spoke as she prepared her final dish. “You’ve surprised me today, Jamie.” 

“That’s Junkrat fer ya, darl!” he cackled. “Ah’ll surprise ya every time.” 

Rolling her eyes, she returned to her preparations, but ‘eeped’ when Junkrat wrapped his arms around her. “Jamie!” 

“A week, Snowball.” he growled into her ear and gently nipping it. “Seven days ah been without ya. Been straight torture.” 

Ordinarily, Mei would’ve pushed him off, told him there would be time later. But seven days was seven days, and to hell with pretense. 

She whirled around, pulled him down and kissed him, hard, forcing her tongue past his lips. The junker squealed in jubilation as she toppled him to the floor and straddled him. She started pulling off her clothes, rising slightly so Junkrat could do the same. The array of spices permeating throughout the kitchen was almost like an aphrodisiac. Or perhaps it was because of the long separation; they were taking in everything about the other. Scent, sight, sound. The second Mei disrobed, Junkrat wrapped his arms around her and sunk his teeth into her neck. The taste of his Mei returned in full force, and by the gods, he nearly came from that alone. 

The long absence had stirred Mei’s hunger for Junkrat as well. She bit down on his shoulder, not even minding the perpetual coating of soot and gunpowder that coated him. “Wǒ hěn xiǎngniàn nǐ.” she whispered. 

“W-Wot’s that mean?” asked Junkrat. 

“It means ‘I fucking missed you’.” 

“Right back atcha, Snowflake.” 

She raised her hips and lowered herself onto Junkrat’s throbbing cock, letting out a low moan as he entered her. Only a week, but it felt as though it had been eons. He burned white hot, and she nearly fell onto him, but he caught her hands in hers, staring up at her with aroused goldenrod eyes. 

“Ain’t no worry, darl. I gotcha. And ah ain’t lettin’ go.” 

“Never again.” she purred. 

The competition, the bragging rights, everything was forgotten in favor of their physical reunion. Mei didn’t even bother hiding her moans as she ground her hips against Junkrat’s. The whole world could’ve broken down the door and the only concern she would’ve had would be whether or not to charge them for viewing. Her moans echoed, filled the Junker’s ears until they overshadowed the beating of his own heart. 

She was softer, softer than he remembered. Soft like that snack the Shimadas once shared. What had they called it? Mochi? That was it, mochi. Soft and pure white. Keeping a firm grip on her hands, he pulled her close and kissed her again, but not before he whispered “Goddammit, Mei, yer still tha best.” 

“And don’t you…hng…f-forget it.” she gurgled. 

It was a testament to how in tune they were with each other when they came simultaneously. Mei arched her back, letting out an earsplitting, wavering shriek that ended in a spasm and a breathless gasp of ecstasy. Junkrat matched her with a loud, screechy wail that, any higher, would’ve shattered glass. 

Unable to keep her grip, Mei collapsed against Junkrat, sighing softly. “That was…was…” 

“A-m—” 

Mei had just enough energy to lightly bap Junkrat on the temple. “Don’t say it.” 

“You know ah ain’t done witchya, Snowball?” he grinned, nibbling her neck. “Not one bit.” 

“I’m ready for round two if y—” 

“Hey, guys! When the heck’s dessert-- sesang-e!” Hana wailed as she held an arm over her face. “My eyes! My eyes!” 

“Shut the damn door!” Junkrat snarled, hurling a nearby radish just as the gamer ducked out of the kitchen. 

-/-/-/-/- 

“Hana?” asked Lúcio, concerned about the teen’s horrified expression and stark white face. He recognized that face. And so did everyone else. “They were…” 

She nodded. 

“Right there in the…” 

She nodded again. 

“…Guess we’re all ordering out for a while.” he murmured, taking Hana by the hand and leading her back to her room. As the rest packed up and filed out, Genji begrudgingly handed Zenyatta back the hundred dollar bill. 

-/-/-/-/- 

Since technically neither of them won, Junkrat had to wear the sandwich board. He agreed, but not before Mei had to hold up her end of the bargain. 

Back in their room, Mei was doing just that. She stepped out of the closet, dressed in a grey cat kigurumi, a large golden bell jangling around her neck. “I still have no idea what you like about this so much…” she pouted, puffing out her cheeks. 

“It’s adorable, darl!” Junkrat squealed, clapping his hands together. “So, do the thing.” 

She sighed, but couldn’t resist a smile. “You are lucky I love you so much.” 

“Yeah, ah know.” 

Rolling her eyes, she jutted her hip to the side raised her hands like cat paws and purred, “Nya!” 

Junkrat squealed and leapt from the bed, snuggling Mei and squishing his cheek against hers. “So cuuuuuuuuuute!” 

“Okay, okay!” she laughed, gently pushing him away. “Now, it’s your turn. I hope you’re photogenic.” 

“Oh, darl.” he replied, “Ya already know.” 

END 

**Author's Note:**

> * thank you  
> ** excuse me  
> *** lying bitch


End file.
